A Song for Olfina
by Gumdrop Boo - Ch4rms
Summary: "It was such a delicious and deceitful secret they kept from their kin." [ONE SHOT]


It was a dangerous game they played. Their hearts were the play pieces and there was only one rule: do not get caught.

If that came to pass, the game would end and they would both lose.

He would stand in the market and watch her idly browse the merchant stalls. He knew she could feel his gaze on her. They both knew she wasn't at the market to shop; she was there because he was close by. Though never close enough. He knew she was thinking of him and how he kissed her. She ignored him and he played aloof should someone see them accidentally lock eyes and grin. They had to keep up appearances after all.

She would sweep and sweep some more, even if the dust was cleared long ago, just to be in that spot where she could see his profile out of the corner of her eye. He always took the same seat at the bar and then would rise and applaud the bard's song only to take his seat again, asking for a mug of ale. That moment after is when he would smile as he caught her staring which would send a deep blush across her cheeks before she would look at the ground and continue sweeping that perfectly clean spot.

When the sky was dark and the residents of Whiterun in a slumber, he would catch her as she made her way home and pull her around the Bannered Mare. She contained her delighted laughter as he engulfed her in his arms and pushed her back against the outer tavern wall—effectively hiding them in the shadows, and once concealed—their lips would meet.

Often their kisses were hurried and hungry, passionate and numerous. They were, by habit, always pressed for time.

It was such a delicious and deceitful secret they kept from their kin.

If caught together, her family would demand his head and his would shame her out of the province.

Yet, that risk didn't stop them.

Rarer were the kisses that were slow, tantalizing, soft and sweet—when they relaxed and reveled in each others company, reluctant to let go or leave.

They laid in the hay outside the city, at the farm his family owned. The stars expanded to eternity across the blanket of evening and the moons were full. It was a night they could only get away with once or twice a year.

"_Olfine the Golden,_" he propped himself up on one arm and started to croon while picking up a piece of her tousled blonde locks, twirling it 'round his finger, "_So beautiful and bold._"

She held in a laugh and made an amused noise in the back of her throat at hearing the words. Her hair had bits of hay tangled within it; she felt unkempt and far from beautiful at the moment. She was also amused at the title; was a name he had called her when they were children but not since.

"_A Nord lass I love and I give my heart to hold._"

He released the lock of hair and picked up one of her hands that was slug across his waist, guiding it up toward his chest. His skin was warm and she could feel his steady and strong heartbeat underneath her palm. Her expression changed to something of thoughtfulness, "Is this that ballad you've been on about?"

He shook his head with a half-smile and his singing voice shifted an octave to its regular tone, "No, just making this up as I look at you."

Her laugh escaped that time—she didn't believe him. She enjoyed it nonetheless. Knowing his ways, he probably spent weeks coming up with the verse and even more waiting for the opportune time to sing it to her. When he sang, his voice was as smooth as butter and as deep as a chasm.

"_Her laugh is like music,_" he continued and she hit him in the arm playfully with the hand he had been holding against his heart. He caught it and kissed the back of it ever so gently, mumbling "_Her touch is like silk._"

She smiled at his ridiculousness and made a move to yank her hand away. He held fast to her wrist and her attempted movement caused a piece of hair to fall into her eyes.

"_Her smile 's like the sunrise._"

The cow made a chuffing sound not far away from where it was kept in a pen. They had probably woken it up with all their noises from before.

He traced his other fingers along her hip to her stomach which caused her skin to prickle with pleasure, "_Skin the color of fresh milk._"

The young woman gave a contented sigh and kept her smile, "Is that it then?"

He leaned forward, his long fingers cupping the side of her face and gave her a quick kiss, "Not even close."

She raised a brow as those same fingers brushed the hair away from her eyes, "_Hair of such gold,_" He laid his forehead onto hers, suddenly looking at her direct and intimately, "_Eyes of such blue._" Without pausing, he planted a series of kisses across her cheeks and down her neck until his face was buried in the nook of her collarbone where he took a deep breath, "_With the scent of lavender under fresh morning dew._"

"Lavender?" she asked wryly, she highly doubted that's what she smelled like at all. She wagered she smelled of lust, perspiration, and barnyard—not as romantic or pretty as his words made her out to be.

"_Olfine, the Golden..._"

"Jon," she rolled her eyes, hearing him continue along with his so-called 'improvised' song about her.

He easily pulled her upward and a shower of hay fell from their bodies. She gave a yelp of surprise at his sudden action and scratched at her arm which felt full off itches from that prickly bed they had made.

"_So firm and so fierce,_" his singing increased in volume and she feared they'd attract a road patrol or even Gwendolyn who resided in the farm house not far away. Then their secret would be ruined. She put a finger to his lips to indicate he should lower his voice.

"Why not save this for your application song to the Bard's College?" she asked with sarcasm.

His blithe expression dropped a notch at her words, as well as his timbre, "_Her tongue so sharp, my flesh it would pierce._"

She had wounded him, and she felt a sting of regret for teasing. He was trying to be romantic and their time together was too short to make unkind comments. They'd known each other since childhood, their families once being fast friends. Even back then he had a bright imagination and knack for words, she admired him—fell in love with him even. He had been contemplating joining the bard's college for years and he did have a talent for singing, creating song, and he could even play the lute and drums. Yet, he never seemed to gather up the will to travel to Solitude and apply. She blamed his family for doubting him, those honor-less Battle-Borns wouldn't even support their own son's aspirations!

His voice pitched back to its familiar register and he whispered, "Come with me."

A pang of guilt struck her because it wasn't just his family that kept him in Whiterun. She knew he didn't want to leave her either. She was needed by her own family, though. The Grey-Manes weren't as wealthy as the Battle-Borns and had to earn their wages through hard work. She gave him a remorseful look; this wasn't the first nor last time he would ask this of her. They were as vulnerable as two people in love could be, standing in the cool night air with no coverings on their bodies—baring their hearts for each to see. If she was selfish, she would have said yes. She shook her head in regret and refusal which tousled her hair even more.

He stood quietly for a moment but then, his song continued, "_Her will is so strong._"

"My family needs me, Jon."

"_Her soul is so kind._"

"Please, don't..." she sighed as he drew closer, taking pleasure in his embrace as the ripple of muscles encased her, and made her feel safe. His head lowered and his chin set atop hers. She felt his jaw tense; she hated causing him pain.

"_Her reasoning is sound, yet I can't shake her from my mind._"

Suddenly, he released her and the warmth was gone. The chilly air crept around her, the darkness felt darker, and that was when she knew he really was just singing as it came to him. He was too talented to waste away in Whiterun, and this proved it. Emotion bubbled into her throat, she blinked back tears, and said softly but firmly "You must go to Solitude."

Everything had to end someday, including their trysts, but Jon was the song in her heart—how could she keep from despairing when he left? What joy could she find in her everyday tasks when he wasn't loitering around the market or sitting at his usual spot in the Bannered Mare? How awful the silence would be with his absence.

He didn't acknowledge the statement but picked up his breeches from the ground where he had discarded them, donning them and lacing up the front. She drank in the vision of him, standing in the starlight without his shirt, for it could very well be the last time she ever did see him in such a way.

She sighed again, mostly to calm her emotions and tear her gaze away, all while plucking her dress and chemise from the top of the hay pile. She picked off bits of it before slipping it over her head and arms tugging it down to cover her. Her limbs felt sluggish, moving slowly and perhaps it was a subconscious desire to prolong their time together.

She felt his arms wrap around her from behind, in a tight embrace. Jon buried his face into her hair and whispered softly, the ending to the tune into her ear,

"_Olfine the Golden is the only lass for me._"

A quick, chaste, kiss to her cheek exemplified his claim before he added in a more somber note,

"_If only, if only, together we could be._"

* * *

Note: One shot idea based on several bits of info on Olfina Grey-Mane's UESP page._  
_


End file.
